Virtuoso
by HelloMiho
Summary: Tenoh Haruka, Europe's premier photographer, rescues a mysterious woman from drowning in Japan, and comes to learn more about art and the sadness that constantly haunts her eyes. In exile one year after her accident, Kaiou Michiru gives up, only to have an arrogant blonde intrude upon her life.
1. Chapter 1

She had always dreamed of living in a white beach house, right after her retirement. After a long, successful career as a concert violinist, she'd move to the coast with a loved one. She'd bring her violin out to the beach and play, accompanied not by the usual grand orchestras but by the sounds of the waves surging back and forth. The sea breeze would play with her hair and the fresh smell of the ocean would settle into her very bones.

How ironic that the beach house of her dreams had become her own gilded cage.

But no longer.

Gingerly placing one foot after the other, unsteady after a long period of unuse, Michiru slowly left the confines of her room and went down the stairs, the bannister supporting her weight. As she crossed the threshold of the house for the first time since her arrival, Michiru did not look back. Her belongings were all organised and her will was ready as well.

Immediately, the exceptionally refreshing aroma that so characterised the sea hit her nose and the sea breeze caressed her face. She absorbed the vast expanses of the beach and as she stepped into the sand, it was as if she could feel each individual grain of the ivory sand swarming her feet. The warmth of sunlight, a touch of the breeze...

What was she doing?

She would no longer belong to this world. However, the ticklish touch of the wind, lingering on her face, bothered her. She found everything a nuisance. All of them no longer mattered to her...

But the wind was persistent. It swirled around her, attempting to hold her in its warm embrace and pull her away from her destination. It was a bother. Whenever and wherever she stood, the wind would follow and surround her with an all consuming breeze, as if trying to compel her still form to action.

Today, tomorrow, the day after her death... The wind would continue to roam the world, it would never cease to blow and bother her.

Just why?

The wind had bothered her ever since she was stuck in her room. It found its way through closed windows to annoy her. Nobody, not even her husband had ever visited her bedroom, but the wind never stopped visiting.

No one, not a soul in this world cared about her existence but the wind, the wind alone stayed to annoy her, to care for her.

She felt a surge of emotions gradually soaking her heart and drowning her chest before she opened her eyes, which had traitorously closed so she could revel in the wind even as she decried it, and clamped down on her feelings.

She stared resolutely at the sea whose waves were stagnant in protest to the blowing of the wind, with only small ripples at the surface visible. With slow but determined steps, she walked to the edge of the sand, only allowing herself to close her eyes when she felt the brisk waves lapping at her feet.

A feeling of tranquillity enveloped her for the first time even as the wind began to furiously howl, and she walked into the open arms of the waiting sea.

* * *

Haruka clutched the driving wheel, eyes on the road but her mind entirely elsewhere.

" _...cannot be considered art..." "...glaringly obvious lack of depth..." "...despite having undeniable technical skills and a discerning eye for the aesthetically pleasing, Tenoh has only breached the very surface of true photography..."_

It had been a long time since she'd faced such scathing reviews. She was Tenoh Haruka, Europe's youngest, most celebrated, premiere photographer, whose pictures received only the most lauded praise and fetched exorbitant sums of money. She was only in Japan to take photographs that would expand her portfolio and potentially be used for the upcoming international competition. The exhibit had just been shown as a courtesy before she went off to explore the country but now, the Oshiro Arts Foundation, whose chairman, Oshiro Kunzite, had personally reached out to her to talk about a potential patronship, had sent a formal letter basically saying the patronship wasn't going to happen.

Her agent had assured her that the reviews didn't matter; Japan was a small, unimportant country and it was much more important that she was loved in Europe. The patronship would have been nice but unnecessary due to the numerous wealthy patrons in Europe who were more than willing to shower her with money to support her photography.

Still, the reviews were more than just a bit disgruntling. Underneath the anger, worry bloomed in her chest in response to the rejection. The opinions of the critics were law to photographers whose very livelihood depended on receiving good reviews so that the wealthy would want to spend money on their photographs. Even if the Japanese critics were unimportant, it stung.

Her photos were shallow? Then she'd photograph the deepest thing and show them. She'd receive their praise before returning to Europe as an internationally recognised photographer and preparing for the competition.

Seeing a scenic beachside from her vantage point as she drove on the cliff side, Haruka decided to stop at the beach and take photos there. Small, unimportant towns were one of the best places to take photographs at because they were unknown, meaning there probably weren't photographs of the place yet. She'd be the first photographer (at least the first modern, professional one) and her pictures would be all the more special for it.

She pulled to a stop, noticing the large gate that closed off the beach.

"NO TRESPASSING. PRIVATE PROPERTY."

Taking her camera out from its bag in the passenger seat, Haruka smirked. This was even better. A private beach meant there'd be almost no pictures of this place, and her photos would almost assuredly be unique. Swiftly climbing her way over the fence, she landed with a soft swoomp as her feet sunk into the sand. She quickly started snapping pictures of the scenery, pure excitement filling her at the thought of being the only photographer to step foot into this new territory. She could already hear the imminent praise from the critics.

Suddenly seeing a vivid aquamarine splotch on her viewfinder, disrupting the background, Haruka lowered the camera from her eyes and squinted in concentration in the direction of the disturbance. She just made out the slender figure of a woman with bright aquamarine hair walking on the sand. A sudden thought struck her. If she were to be caught by the owner of the beach, she could get into a lot of legal trouble. Silently backing away and readying herself to run back to her car, Haruka paused. The woman, wearing a long gauzy white skirt that swayed in the breeze, was slowly walking towards the almost unmoving waves of the sea. As the figure walked into the sea, Haruka found herself unconsciously getting closer as well, curiosity welling up inside her. Ignoring her instinct to run and save herself, she tentatively called out, "Hey miss, what are you doing?"

The woman didn't respond as she continued to be slowly swallowed up by the sea. Haruka felt an alarming sense of urgency grip her for some reason, and she called out louder, "Miss, what are you doing?"

The woman was so far into the sea that now her head slowly disappeared into the waves, and after a few moments passed without her resurfacing, Haruka placed her camera down and burst into a sprint.

"Miss!"

She shot into the suddenly roiling waves of the sea, fighting against the tide as she tried to reach the aqua haired woman. Eyes open despite the sharp stinging of the seawater, she saw an almost ethereal figure, her gauzy white clothes floating around her. Looking at the almost tranquil expression on her face, Haruka almost wouldn't have believed the woman was drowning. Reaching her arms out, Haruka tightly grasped the woman to her, fighting to rise to the surface of the sea, which seemed hellbent on containing the two women.

Breaking the surface and taking a hasty gulp of air, Haruka quickly swam back to the sand of the beach, laying the woman down carefully. Placing her head by the unconscious woman's mouth and feeling no breath, Haruka wasted no time and began chest compressions.

"Come on, come on, come on!"

Within a short amount of time, the woman seemed to gasp back to life, sputtering out the water that had been blocking her airway. Haruka dropped back with a sigh of relief, feeling the adrenaline leave her body. Shaking her wet hair, Haruka looked at the woman who had coughed out all of the water.

"Miss, you really need to be careful. If it weren't for me, you could have die-."

Haruka found her voice dying at the expression on the woman's face. For someone who had just been granted another chance at life, she looked utterly desolate, and a tear fell from her startlingly cobalt eyes. Petal pink lips trembled and with a lot of struggle, one hoarse word managed to escape from her mouth.

"Why."

* * *

A/N: Hello! Once again, I'm surrounded by an overwhelming amount of things I need to do, so I decided to write fanfiction instead. This is deeply inspired by the story of V's mother in Mystic Messenger, and I've included some quotes from it. If you don't know the story, then please stay tuned for the next chapter, which will (probably) reveal why Michiru's turned this way!


	2. Chapter 2

Haruka ran a hand through her wet hair, slicking it back while looking at the nearly catatonic woman lying on the couch. After that single word, the woman had refused to answer any of her questions and Haruka had done the only rational thing she could think of by carrying the woman to what seemed to be her house. The door had still been open and she'd gently placed her onto a white sofa, unsure of what to do next.

"Ojou-sama! What on earth happened?!"

A bag of groceries spilled onto the ground as a young woman shrieked. She ran over to the woman on the couch and while there was a flicker of recognition, she remained unresponsive and still. Not sparing the blonde a glance, the maid quickly helped the still drenched woman up the stairs, leaving behind a trail of puddles.

Alone on the first floor, Haruka took the time to carefully pick up the spilled produce and take in her surroundings. The interior was as vast as the exterior had seemed, but it was scarce in furniture and decorations, not looking at all like an inhabited home. "Ojou-sama," the girl had called the woman. There was no doubt she was rich, coming from old money.

Haruka's thoughts were interrupted as the maid came down the stairs, muttering to herself.

"Goshujin-sama will need to hear about this…"

She fretted, visibly worried when she lifted her head and saw the blonde. Startling before coming back to herself, the maid went in front of Haruka and bowed deeply.

"Thank you very much for helping ojou-sama. She's in bed now so there is no need for you to worry."

"It's nothing. If I'm not being too intrusive, may I ask who you were talking about on the stairs?"

Biting her lip in worry and wanting to share her fears with someone else, the maid answered, "Oshiro-sama will need to know what happened to his wife today."

Haruka blanched, "Oshiro Kunzite? She's his wife?!"

She solemnly nodded, "Oshiro-sama thought it'd be best for Kaiou-sama to stay here while she recovers."

Her brain whirred into action. How fortunate she was to have just saved the wife of the very man who controlled the Japanese arts world! After hearing of her heroics, he'd have to become her patron and with his influence, she'd definitely get great reviews.

While the opinions of critic were law to photographers, the opinions of prominent arts/entertainment businessmen were law to both critics and photographers. They were the source of the money that funded them all, and no Japanese critic would dare go against someone Oshiro Kunzite was patroning.

However, she had technically been trespassing on private property and she could get into a lot of legal trouble. There was no guarantee that Kunzite wouldn't press charges against her even after saving his wife's life…

But if she was able to get the support of his wife, then Haruka would be completely safe! If his wife vouched for Haruka, Kunzite would be able to do nothing except become her sponsor. This was perfect!

The maid looked curiously at Haruka, who had remained silent during her planning. Haruka suddenly turned to make direct eye contact with the younger woman.

"Why don't you hold off on telling Oshiro-san? It'll just worry him and I'm sure he's a very busy man. It's okay, I'm an old acquaintance of Kaiou-san. I wasn't aware she'd married during my time abroad but I came to help her in her recovery."

She looked sorely tempted at the idea of not having to tell her intimidating boss (he'd fire her for sure!) but she fiddled uncomfortably with her fingers as she avoided the blonde's gaze.

Haruka's eyes lit up in understanding, "Oh, please, there's no need for you to worry. I'm a woman."

Her grey ringlets bounced as the maid looked up with a red blush, "Oh! I'm so sorry, I-!"

"It's no problem. But will you agree to keep today a secret for now?" Haruka spoke smoothly, her husky voice lulling and persuading the younger girl who nodded quickly.

"Thanks! I'll come by tomorrow then, koneko-chan," Haruka said while leaving the house, leaving behind a girl who was now blushing for an entirely different reason.

* * *

"Oshiro Kunzite wife"

Her google search was met with thousands of results, ranging from articles to pictures. Haruka had never met with him in person, only corresponded with him through her agent. Clicking on a picture, she saw a tall, broad shouldered man with sleek white hair who cut an stern and imposing figure. His mouth was in an upturned smirk, as if he knew he knew of his own superiority, but his eyes remained steely and mirthless. Next to him stood a woman of utmost elegance, who looked physically similar to the woman Haruka had saved but felt like an entirely different person. Perfectly styled aquamarine tresses, a sharp yet delicate and perfectly painted face, a tight black dress that wrapped and highlighted her perfectly proportional body, she complimented the severity of her husband's figure, carrying herself with an unmistakable poise and grace that Haruka could sense even through the photo. Together, they looked like the ultimate power couple, although Kunzite's possessive arm around his wife seemed as if he was showing off a trophy rather than holding his wife.

Scanning through several articles, Haruka found that while he was the chairman of Japan's premiere arts and entertainment company (a fact she was already aware of), his wife, Kaiou Michiru, had been a celebrated violinist with a lengthy career filled with numerous accolades.

The most recent articles talked about how the violinist's career had come to an abrupt end after a severe car accident robbed her of her hearing, and how she was at an undisclosed location to recover from her grievous injuries.

Haruka stared at those words and the image of the aqua haired woman, inconsolably desolate after being saved, brought itself to the forefront of her mind. In her excitement at the prospect of getting Kunzite's patronship through his wife, she had forgotten about the woman herself.

What had she gotten herself into?

* * *

A/N: This story is just too easy to write! (meanwhile my deadlines are coming up fast and I've made no progress on those ahh)

I wasn't able to put in the maid's name in this chapter, but I'll be sorely impressed if anyone can guess who she is. She's also a character from the manga/anime and Haruka's nickname for her is a big hint!

The next chapter will start with a focus on Michiru. Thank you all for your kind words! Very astute observations were made and I was surprised by how accurate some of them were! More will be revealed and I hope you will continue to read this story!


End file.
